


Acts of Kindness

by Trojie



Category: RocknRolla (2008)
Genre: Comfort Sex, Friends With Benefits, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:34:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bob's goin' to prison in the morning, most likely, and One Two's got his head up his own arse. Well, Mumbles isn't gonna let a mate go down without a decent send-off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acts of Kindness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ceares](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceares/gifts).



> Ceares wanted to see Mumbles and Handsome Bob together. Well, Ceares - your wish is my command!

Bob and One Two walk into the Speeler for Bob's farewell party, and something ain't right - Mumbles can smell it from the off. One Two looks like he's got a stick up his arse and Bob's eyes are red. Bob's too quiet for a man on his last night of freedom, and One Two's acting fuckin' shifty. 

So Mumbles, because he can be a good bastard sometimes, when he wants to be, waves for two pints from Tina, and sidles over to Bob, figuring if he's gonna sort one of 'em out it had better be the one with the deadline hanging over him. Bob nods. 'Mumbles,' he says, tipping his chin, looking down again too bloody quick, like he's trying not to see anyone else. 

'Alright, Bob, my son,' says Mumbles, passing him one of the pints. Bob drinks most of it in one go, down the hatch of his sleek throat, and out the corner of his eye Mumbles sees One Two turn away, too fast, too fast, and knows. 

Oh, boys. Boys, boys, boys.

Well, they do say the truth will out. Mumbles has figured it was coming for a while now. Kinda thought maybe, just maybe, One Two'd realise something about himself Mumbles has been pretty sure about for a while now. But maybe Bob spilled his beans a little too soon. 

Bob's tryin', he is. He's shaky, but he covers good. And Fred and Cookie, Eddie and Turkish and Big Chris, the Harris twins, everyone, well, they know Bob's most likely goin' away tomorrow morning, so they buy it. He's a good-hearted lad and he's got a good reason to be down on himself right now. So they buy what he's selling. 

Mumbles, though, Mumbles can read between lines, knows Bob inside out the way he makes it his business to know everyone. Sees where Bob isn't looking cos it's where his eyes would have strayed every fuckin' second otherwise, if something hadn't gone tits-up. And he also notices things like, One Two hasn't touched Bob all night. Not a pat, not a hand on the shoulder, not so much as a brush of shirt to shirt as they stand too close, the way they were doing just this fuckin' morning. 

Mumbles isn't stupid. 

And this isn't fair. Mumbles doesn't care what the hell his two idiots have got themselves tangled up over, he just cares about the fact that Bob shouldn't be hurting tonight. Given enough time, sure, Bob and One Two'd sort themselves out, they always do, but they don't fuckin' well have enough time, do they? No. And Mumbles'll be fucked if he's gonna let Bob be alone his last night before ending up in the slammer. So if One Two won't grow a pair, Mumbles decides, looking at Bob who's looking at the floor, then Mumbles will just have to take one for the team.

It's not exactly a hardship.

The others trickle away - Cookie for business, Chris for business too although a different kind. Eddie and Turkish persuade Fred to play a game of brag, and so eventually it's just the three of them, Bob and Mumbles and One Two, and One Two keeps looking over at the game. Mumbles learnt to read him like a (short, simple) book years ago. He doesn't bother even congratulating himself on being right when One Two slopes off to lose the contents of his wallet to that fuckin' card-shark Eddie. 

'C'mon,' he says to Bob instead. 'I'm taking you home.'

And he means it. 

***

Bob's not drunk. Didn't take the drugs they lined up for him neither, and the Harris girls got away home unfucked and well-tipped for the trouble they took turning up, and probably kinda glad about having a night off, even though gossip says they don't mind a bit of young Bob when it's on offer, pay or no pay. Gossip says a lot of things like that about young Bob, and girls.

Gossip doesn't know shit, as far as Mumbles can tell. Cos yeah Bob'll keep up appearances, sure, but Mumbles knows for a fact the Harris girls don't have quite what it takes to keep Bob's interest, shall we say. So maybe there's some mutually-beneficial fibbing going on, yeah? 

But that's not the point. The point is, Bob's cold-sober and clear-eyed and about to go down in the morning. 

Mumbles, now, Mumbles got rat-arsed the night before he went away, and he did everything powdered or smokable they put in front of him, and he's pretty sure there were a coupla girls involved but he doesn't remember all that much, really. One Two got so fuckin' blotto that he was still half-cut the morning after and Mumbles had to get Bob to drive him to the bloody courtroom. Nights like this, they bring out the junkie in everyone.

But Bob, no, Bob's sober tonight. Clean. And he's never been a drunk or a smackhead anyway, not even on what they call a recreational basis. Bob says he just wants to go home and get some sleep, but Mumbles knows he needs something. Bob's not a drunk or a smackhead, no, but he's not a fuckin' monk - he'll be craving, right enough. Everyone needs something, night like this. And Mumbles, for Bob, is ready and willing to provide. 

'You do realise,' says Mumbles in the car on the way back to Bob's place, when he's driving and Bob's looking fidgety and uncomfortable the way he always does in the passenger's seat, 'that when I said I was takin' you home I meant I'm _takin' you home_. Right?'

Some fuckin' band Mumbles doesn't know is crashin' and bangin' on the radio. Bob looks at him and stills, freeze-frame, for a moment. 'Not funny, Mumbles,' he mutters under his breath. 'Just let me fuckin' sleep.'

'Nah, fair play,' Mumbles presses, turns the steering wheel into the corner two streets before Bob's place, smooth as butter past the little roundabout. 'Lemme take care of you, yeah?' he says, and means it. 'Everything they got on you, they got 'cos you was doing somethin' with me and One Two, right? And you didn't grass us up.'

'S'what friends do,' Bob says, eyes sliding sideways to look out the window rather than at Mumbles. Street-lights wash out the colour but Mumbles thinks Bob might've gone pink. 'I'm not a fucking rat, Mumbles.'

'I know you ain't,' Mumbles agrees. 'And I know what friends do for each other, so are you gonna let me do it for you, Bob? Give you a bit'a what you need, a proper send-off? Like you deserve?' It's one more corner, and Mumble can see Bob's building looming up in the dark, one or two lights on in the odd flat, night owls like Bob and Mumbles are, but most of the place is blacked-out and quiet. 

Bob laughs, hollow and defeated and tired. 'Yeah,' he says. 'Cos that's just what I need, a pity-fuck from a straight boy. Thanks, mate, but I think I'm alright without it.'

Mumbles puts the brake on, they're maybe five doors too far down but he parks anyway, yanks the key and the silence drops down like a weight without the radio or the engine on. He turns in his seat and growls, 'Pity's got nothin' to do with it.' Bob's eyes are dark, and it ain't drugs or rock 'n roll doing it so it must be sex, right? 'Maybe I'm the one takin' advantage here.'

Bob just shakes his head and reaches for the door handle.

Mumbles adds, 'Maybe I been looking for a reason to say somethin',' and it's a gamble and it's not as much of a lie as you might think, and maybe it's a little bit cruel one when he adds, 'like you were earlier, with that fuckin' muppet One Two.'

Bob's shoulders tense. 

Mumbles wishes he weren't such a nasty bastard, wishes he could do this kinder. But it gets results. 

'Guess you'd better come in, then,' say Bob, and gets out of the car.

***

The place is gonna look like a fuckin' crimescene in the morning. Mumbles gets a little pushy to get the ball rolling - fronts up to Bob and yanks him into a kiss and isn't expecting Bob to push back so fast, so hard. Isn't expecting it to be as good as it is, and they shove each other around, trying to figure out how they're doin' this because Mumbles is kinda somehow outta his depth and scrambling for handholds, and Bob feels fuckin' frantic under his hands, and Bob's living room furniture cops it, collateral damage, Ikea's finest can't quite hold up two grown men when Bob decides to plough Mumbles backwards into his bookshelf. Mumbles gets his feet back under him and hands spanning Bob's ribs and Bob's shirt goes somewhere, who the fuck knows, the flimsy coffee table ends up kicked against a wall, and they find the bedroom door basically by luck or some shit, and fall through it. 

Mumbles drags himself away from Bob's mouth, which he didn't think he'd be so reluctant to do, and says, 'Get on the bed.'

Bob's breathing hard and wild and he does what he's told, which Mumbles likes, oh yes he does. He doesn't usually go for blokes but he goes a whole lot for the kind of look Bob gives him when he sits on the edge of the mattress, like he's waiting to be told what to do _next_ , and it's not like Bob's normally the type to knuckle under. He wouldn't do this for just anyone.

He's doing it for Mumbles, though. Mumbles' fingers twitch. Bob looks up at him and licks his lips and Mumbles' dick fucking twitches too.

'Take off your trousers,' Mumbles says, crowding in. Bob's still hesitating. 'They're in my way,' Mumbles growls for clarification, grinning at the way Bob's eyes darken. 

'You're fucking serious,' Bob says like he doesn't believe it, hands going for his fly anyway. Oh yes. 

'What, the tonsil hockey out there didn't convince you?' Mumbles asks, grabbing for Bob's jeans as soon as he's got them open, and yanking them down, down to Bob's ankles, trapping them there. He looks at the result with a critical eye. Pretty, sure. Strong bloke like Bob just a little bit trapped, stuck cos Mumbles wants him to be stuck and Bob wants to do what Mumbles wants him to. But nah, not quite right. 'You're an attractive man, Bob,' Mumbles tells him, pulling back and dragging the jeans with him, chucking them away so Bob's in the nick, and then settling down against the head of the bed, leaving Bob where he is.

There's a moment and Bob's staring and not sure and this is not supposed to be for Mumbles's benefit but fuck it, no harm in enjoying your work is there, so Mumbles lets it drag out and then he beckons. 'C'mere,' he says, and Bob fucking _crawls_ on hands and knees up the bed like he knows what's cranking Mumbles' engine here. Mumbles reaches for him before he can do something off-script, not that he knows what the script is. 'No, like this,' and pulls Bob into the vee of his legs, so they're facing the same way and Mumbles can curl his hand around Bob's cock, likes the way he's just that bit taller than Bob so he can tuck his chin over Bob's shoulder and his mouth against Bob's ear and watch himself give Bob a helping hand. 'Just like this,' he murmurs. 'Easy, easy,' as Bob jerks in his hold. 'Gonna take care'a you, nice 'n gentle.' 

Would be just like tossing himself off, 'cept for the visual - feels pretty much the same, and he's hard in his jeans against Bob's bare arse, and kinda likes it. Bob squirms but he don't make noise much, and if Mumbles had a girl here right now he'd be going for clit 'n tits at the same time so it's just second nature to thumb over Bob's nipple and enjoy the way he swallows a groan. 'Mmm, you feel good,' Mumbles says, and he means it an' all. 'Maybe I should rethink my stance on blokes,' he says, laughing softly into Bob's ear and oh fuck, yes, Bob grinds back against him and that right there, that's a bit of all right.

'S'fucking stupid,' Bob says thickly, heels dug into the mattress and lifting into the way Mumbles is stroking him. He's leaking wet, slick-soft and Mumbles lets it catch in his palm and make everything just that little bit easier. Should be weirder, having another man's prick in his hand, but Mumbles just kind of likes it, the way it feels havin' someone fall apart cos he's touching them. 'Why'm I - s'gonna fuck it all up, screw up with both of you in one fucking night.' He laughs too, but it's not the laugh Mumbles couldn't help cos he was realising something - this is a laugh like Bob's already writing something off as bitter water under the too-late bridge.

'Nah,' says Mumbles, leaving Bob's now-tight nipples alone and dropping his hand lower, goin' exploring in all sorts of interesting places. Bob's knees fall spread, he pulls his heels even higher up the mattress and slouches down and well hello, Mumbles suddenly has an all-access pass to places he's never been before. Wasn't planning on this, but Mumbles, see, Mumbles is a fuckin' opportunist, you leave anything lying around you better bet Mumbles'll lay his fingers on it. 'We aren't screwing, Robert - you'd know it if I screwed you, yes indeed.' 

Bob whines strangled in his throat.

'Right now I'm just gettin' you off, 'cos you're my mate and you deserve a bit of something good on a night like this. Gonna stay all night,' he says, and he wasn't but he wants to, so fuck it, change of plans time, 'look after you, give you what you need when you need it, an' tomorrow morning I'm gonna drive you to court.' 

He's got Bob's balls in one hand and his cock in the other, gentle like he promised, own hips hitching trying to rub off against Bob's arse and the small of his back because fuck, fuck, you never had power til you've got another man's trust naked and needy in your palms like this. 'Gonna sit in the gallery the whole way through. An' if Archy and Lenny come through for us the way they ought to, gonna drive you back to the Speeler after and we'll have that party again proper.'

'And if I go down?' Bob says, trembling. 'Christ, Mumbles, _please,_ ' he gasps on an upstroke, Mumbles' fingers inching down from his balls to back further, somewhere even darker, newer, more tender. Somewhere else Mumbles can take care of him.

Mumbles shrugs against Bob's body, little bit more turned on every time he feels his clothes scrape Bob's bare skin. 'Then you go down,' he says. 'It happens. I been sent down, One Two's been sent down. But Bob, if you go down I'll be there to pick you up the day they let you out.' He rubs the pad of his finger thoughtfully over Bob's hole, just to feel the way it makes him tense and shiver, and takes a chance. 'An' I bet you any money you like that stupid bleeder One Two'll be there too.'

He twists his wrist, Bob's softest skin riding with his fist up and down. Bob whimpers. Mumbles feels his own cock pulse in the wet mess he's makin' of his own pants. He's getting off on this, no denying it. 'You haven't lost anythin'. You can't lose us,' he murmurs in Bob's ear. 'Now c'mon. Come for me, Bobby-boy,' he says, One Two's pet name slipping out because Mumbles knows it'll work. 

Bob does as he's told, tenses and shakes and so much sweet pressure grinding back on Mumbles that the friction combined with the feeling of someone coming at his fucking _command_ almost sets Mumbles off too, and he bites his own lip just to keep his head when he's got his hands full of Bob all good-behaviour and pliant and there's fires burning along his nerves and fingertips and in his lungs. He's not ready to come yet.

Bob's easing down off his pleasure, going soft in Mumbles' hands and starting to squirm like he's gonna do a runner. Mumbles pulls his head back in the game, and rolls Bob's balls gently in his palm. 'Uh-uh,' he rumbles in Bob's ear. 'Where d'you think you're goin'?'

This is the time Bob'd fight, Mumbles knows. This is when the awkward comes out to play, when the guilt slides in, the 'oh shit, we shouldn't have' part. But Mumbles just cannot be fucked with that right now. 

'Told you,' he says, before Bob can get a word in. 'Gonna take care of you,' and Bob tenses, takes a deep breath … and melts back into Mumbles' chest. 

'That's my good boy,' says Mumbles, settling them a bit more comfortably. Gonna go another round, but they're not teenagers so it might take a while. He's even toying with the idea of getting his trousers off, see if Bob feels as good as Mumbles thinks he might. 

'Fuck off,' says Bob easily, like he would down the Speeler if someone was giving him a hard time. That's our Bob. Smiles and four letter words, sweet to the bone but rough round the edges. Mumbles is gonna miss him if he goes. 'Not your good boy.' He twists in Mumbles' arms, til they're face to face and he's over Mumbles' lap with one arm up against the headboard. The other is worming its way between them, and he flattens his palm over Mumbles' dick. 'Can I?' he asks. He licks his lips. 

Mumbles pauses, because fuck yes but he doesn't wanna lose his cool. This wasn't the point. And then Bob slides down Mumbles' body, and maybe this was the point because Bob's smiling, Bob's shoving Mumbles' shirt up and kissing at his belly and Bob's finally looking like this is a party. 

Mumbles puts his hands on Bob's head. His buzzcut is soft and fuzzy and now Mumbles is imagining it against the inside of his thighs. 

Bob pulls at Mumbles' fly, getting it open, and then he looks up cheekily and says, 'You gonna tell me how you want it then?' and Mumbles laughs. 'I got you figured out,' Bob says, smug. 'C'mon, tell me just how you like it, mate.'

And he lets Mumbles hold onto him, push and pull and give orders, and he laps it up, putty in Mumbles' hands and not thinking about anything but getting off and getting Mumbles off. 

Perfect.

Mumbles kind of wishes, sometimes, that he could lose his head in sex the way some people do - go all thoughtless and hungry and satisfied, but he can't. He just watches other people do it and likes, likes a whole fuckin' lot, the fact that it's him that gets them there. He watches Bob sink into it, and smiles. 

***

Bob doesn't go down, thanks to Archy and Lenny. Mumbles is there to drive him back like he promised, because he promised, but it's still not a fuckin' party because One Two is an idiot with a stick up his arse so big you'd think he'd have no problem with anything Bob might have in mind. 

They go to Stella's party and Mumbles can't make One Two be less of a dick. Wishes he could, but he can't. Bob keeps up appearances but … fuck it, it's like it was all for nothing. Mumbles hates wasted effort. One Two's off schmoozing the lady of the house and Bob's fronting like he doesn't care, but he does. Mumbles can tell. 

And then the _man_ of the house offers him a very juicy bit of information, and suddenly Mumbles knows exactly how he can help.

'See that man sitting on the sofa?' he asks Bob.

Bob shrugs. 'What, the queen that's screwing me out? S'a bit hard to miss him, innit?'

'Do me a favour, go chat him up, will you?' Mumbles says.

Bob's close enough that Mumbles can feel him breathe in a little too sharp before he says 'Fuck off, who d'you think I am?' But he's grinning. 

'Well, he's a bigtime lawyer, says he knows about an informer in our part of town. Now, you were facin' a five-stretch, figured you might be interested.'

'Mmm,' Bob says, and Mumbles pats himself on the back as Bob's walk turns predatory. Nah, he can't make One Two play nice, and he can't make Bob _happy_ , but he can give him just a little bit of power back. 

***

One Two's freakin' out and Mumbles is trying so, so hard not to laugh at him. 'Did he make a pass at you?' he asks, knowing full fuckin' well he did, knowing how it went down, knowing what happened afterwards. But he asks, because for Bob's sake he can't let One Two know he knows. 

'Yes he fuckin' did,' One Two hisses, like it's a scandal. Or, more likely, like he's worried what Mumbles is gonna think of him. Like maybe he considered it and he doesn't want Mumbles to know. Like maybe he thinks Mumbles is gonna judge.

So Mumbles smiles. 'So what's the problem?' he asks. 'Hmm? It was supposed to be his last night, you took care of him.' One Two shakes his head like he doesn't believe what he's hearing. 'That's what friends do for one another.'


End file.
